Wisteria Castle
by Fighter1357
Summary: He drew the Wisteria Castle, surrounded by the seasonals and rocks. He drew his castle, copying the image. He sketched in the moonlight, filling up his sketchbook. The sketchbook he got from his mother.


**Title: Wisteria Castle**

**Author: Fighter1357**

**Date Published: 05/29/13**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the Wisteria Castle and the idea. **

**A/N: This is the result of boredom. No beta, so if there are mistake my bad. ;) **

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Dick held the pencil tightly in his hand. He stared at the blank drawing paper, the sketch books paper dully glinting off the low moonlight of the night. He glanced at the roses that hung next to his face, blowing lightly at it halfheartedly. Looking upward, he stared at the dying wisteria bushes up at the moon where it flooded through the trees. He turned back at his drawings and at the sketch book. The front of it where the pages were tainting yellow where old, rough and harsh drawings from Dick's eight year old year's began. The drawings began to look more beautiful as the book progressed, the pages smudged gray with graphite and lead. He began to drawing the outline of a girl perched on a building, her cape flying out behind her, her red hair like a spot of blood against a white rose.

He began to draw the shadows on her body, where the circle of the moon missed the spots. He sketched an outline, shifting in his position quietly, rustling the leaves behind him. He filled out the city, taking another pencil with softer graphite and filling it in, smudging the marks on the paper with the side of his fist and his blender. He draw the girl, his defensive and looming perch on the building beginning to fill out with glinting gray. His eyes narrowed and he slowly looked up and looked around, his mood changing.

He always drew in the gardens of Wayne Manor. Bruce's mother, Martha Wayne, had the entire manor decorated with seasonals and year-rounders, where sometimes some of the garden was completely brown and bleak, while the other was primitive with life. Wayne Manor had more than several acres of land, despite being so close to the city; it stretched pretty far back. He had walked, one day, along a narrow stretch of path that led through a thick orchard of blossoming maple trees, walking down a small foothill and into a wonderland. It was like he had fallen through the rabbit hole. The place was teeming with life, roses and azaleas and wisteria and daisies. There was a small pong with several Koi fish, a pure white one that Dick had called "Jack". On a stone that was at the entrance of the circular courtyard, were the words "For Martha Wayne, your secret castle". He called it either the Utopia or the Wisteria Castle. Dick often found himself wondering if Bruce knew about the utopia. The thing had been filled with weeds and dried leaves from the overhanging maple and birch trees nearby, but after a few years (he found it when he was ten) he had cleared it out to the best of his ability.

Coming down here to draw had been an accident. One day he was in his room, sketch a batarang in the book when Bruce had knocked on the door. It had been a year later since he'd found it. Not wanting Bruce to see his sketches, he panicked and three the book out of his window, launching it across the gardens and right next to a fountain, water from the splashes creating little droplets of water on the cover. When Bruce walked in, all he found was Dick chilling with his feet up on the desk, headphones in, and on his laptop.

The only words exchanged were "Coming with me on patrol?" and "Do you even need to ask anymore?".

Before they left on patrol, Dick went to scour the garden for his sketchbook, walking the grounds and looking under every plant and rock. He eventually found it, the ink on the cover smudged forever because of the water. The pond was right next to the maple orchard (was it an orchard?) and the pathway was covered by dead, wet leaves and dirt. He noticed how it still veered to the right and, taking the chance and noticing the placement of the trees, he walked down the narrow path and into his utopia of color. And since then he had been drawing there, all because he had found it because of his notebook and his paranoia.

He didn't know why he didn't want Bruce to know he drew, he just felt uncomfortable with it. He knew it was childish and stupid and Bruce probably wouldn't care, but it was one of those things that he had only shared with his parents. He thought of Bruce as his father figure, but he didn't feel Bruce deserved to see it. They were his. His drawings that he drew.

He had the team in there, and himself and Batman and Batgirl and Gotham. He had drawn Haley's Circus, a Flying Grayson's Poster, and flowers and fish and ponds and trees. He drew some abstract work and he one time drew a small little Robin, perched tauntingly over a small orange cat, that was staring up at it hungrily. Some sketches weren't finished, some were halfway there and some were either almost complete or complete. It was his sketch book.

He finished the picture of Barbara, slipping his pencil into the spine of the sketchbook, his closed it, flipping through the yellow gray pictures, and stood up. Walking the circular perimeter of his base, Dick touched the marble stone slabs that held the dirt and columns choked with wisteria gently. He got to the end and walked up the stone path, blinking his eyes tiredly a he felt a certain feeling of emptiness grip his stomach and he walked up toward the manor, where he could see the faint outline of Bruce in the office window.

"What time is it?" he muttered to himself as he walked up the big marble steps to the manor. He entered a large ballroom, walking past a grand piano into a lavishly decorated living room, dropping onto the couch. His sketchbook on the floor beside him, it fell down under the couch. He closed his eyes, mumbling about a blanket under his breath.

After a few moments, Bruce walked in. He glanced down at his surrogate son and smiled, pulling a blanket from a nearby couch and laying it over the ebony haired boy. He glanced around the darkened manor, the lulling moonlight causing him to yawn loudly. He leaned down and rubbed his son's hair. Setting his hand down, his fingers brushed against the edges of the old drawing book. He frowned, leaning back and wrapping his hand around it, pulling it out from beneath the dustless floor. He glanced at the old Strathmore cover, the price tag faded so you could barely see the amount. He stared at it for a moment, standing up and walking down the paneled hallways toward his brightly lit oak office.

He sat down at the desk, placing a set of rectangular reading glasses on his face and opened the old book. He opened it up to childish drawings mixed with beautiful flowers that were signed at the bottom; they said RG and Mary. L. G.

Bruce blinked; he had figured out what this was.

He continued flipping through the book, watching as suddenly the flowers stopped and the drawings got more and more harsh, but better. He saw them become more elegant, more fluid. The drawings looked beautiful. He saw himself and the Justice League. He saw cartoon versions of themselves; he grinned at those. He saw Batgirl and The Team and he saw Robin and Gotham City. There was one drawing, where there was a round stone garden with large wisteria bushes over it and seasonals surrounding the stone patio. It was labeled on the bottom in a cursive Bruce had never seen before "Wisteria Castle". He stared it at, having never seen it before and wondered about the Wisteria Castle. He smiled at the Batcave, which was drawn so exact, you would have thought it were a graphite image. Smiling he closed the journal with the picture of Batgirl perched on the edge of a roof ledged on his mind. He looked down at the cover and slowly turned it over, opening to the back page.

_From Mary Grayson to her little Robin,_

_Love Mami_

Bruce closed his eyes and smiled. Taking the book and standing up, he walked back through the empty halls toward the living room and laid the book down on the glass table. He smiled at his son, and then stood up. He thought about the Wisteria Castle.

All he could so was smile.

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_Fin. _


End file.
